


When the Flock is Injured

by a_novel_idea



Series: The One In Which Nothing Is Normal, Family Is Considered, And Clint Could Be More Bird-Like Than Anyone First Thought, But Really Only Has A Tendancy To Nest [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nesting, Relief, Romance, just a tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:11:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_novel_idea/pseuds/a_novel_idea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton gets two hours alone in his nest before Natasha comes to check on him; Coulson sneaks in just after midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Flock is Injured

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't quite go the way I wanted it to, but I'm still happy the way it turned out. I had planned on a little more group interaction and maybe Natasha trying to make good on her promise to Tony when he makes fun of Clint, but that may come later.

Clint Barton gets two hours alone in his nest before Natasha comes to check on him.

It's exactly as he left it, not that he had any doubts otherwise, and familiar in a way that is almost painful. He beds down in the middle of all the old clothes, Coulson's favorite dress shirt is still here and so is a collection Natasha's t-shirts, and blankets and it's the homecoming he hasn't had in weeks. The smell and feel of the worn fabrics settle across his skin and Clint relaxes for the first time since, well, he can't remember since when. He leans back and lets the world move around him.

When Nat appears, she respectfully waits at the edges of his territory until he motions her in. She has a SHEILD issue duffel bag with her and he sets it in his lap when she steps into the mess of a cradle he's built and settles in beside him. He opens it without asking and raises an eyebrow at the stash of mix-matched clothes he finds inside. Nat just smiles and lays back, bringing Clint with her until he's forgotten about everything but using her stomach as a pillow and getting some well-deserved rest. Nat's a comfortable presence by his side and when she starts to card her fingers through his short hair he throws his broken arm over her waist and attempts to smother himself in the soft skin of her belly. 

Coulson sneaks in sometime after midnight and it's a testament to how out of it they both are that he is able to sneak at all. He's not just in off-duty clothes either, he's dressed like he's ready to settle in for the long haul in sleep pants and a Harvard sweatshirt Clint's been trying to get his hands on for years. The older agent steps over both Clint and Nat and burrows in between a wall of clothes and Clint’s back, wrapping his own arm around the injured man. Clint doesn't say anything when that hand slips underneath his shirt and rests on the scarred skin over his heart. Clint falls asleep between two people he knows will have his back no matter what happens.

When Clint wakes up nest, Natasha is gone and he has no sense of what time it is. Coulson, _Phil_ , is still pressed against his back, breath hot on the back of his neck and fingernails gently scraping over the flesh of his chest. Clint hmms in contentment and pushes back into the feeling of the man behind him. Phil tightens his grip on Clint before pulling away and moving the injured man onto his back. The handler hovers over him, taking in the bruises and the cuts, the protective wrapping over two still very open bullet wounds. 

"Almost lost you," Phil says quietly. "Twice. Almost lost you twice."

"Phil," Clint says, but his breath catches in his throat. 

Phil Coulson never states the obvious risks their jobs have on their relationship.

Phil swings his knee over Clint's hip and settles his entire body over the marksman's, just enough weight resting to be reassuring without causing more harm to the body below. Clint fists his good hand into the Harvard sweatshirt he's been after and pulls the older man down until their lips are pressed together, light but nevertheless consuming. Phil moves his jaw, grinding his mouth into Clint's like he means to leave an impression. Clint doesn't mind. When Phil has finally had enough, he pulls back to allow Clint to breath and leans down further, past Clint's mouth, jaw, ear, until he presses his teeth into the junction of the sniper's neck and shoulder. He presses until he can taste the faint copper of blood in his mouth before easing up. Clint doesn't say a word, hasn't since day one. He went into this thing they have knowing he might come out with more scars than he had when he went in and he fully accepted that.

Clint's hands tremble as he cups Phil's face the best he can and he pulls the man into another kiss, soft and tender like they hardly allow themselves to be. 

"You almost lost me," Clint says quietly. " _Almost._ Not gonna be able to get rid of me that easily, Phil."

"Good."

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it!


End file.
